


Mary

by deawrites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adult Content, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bad Parenting, Explicit Language, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 15:58:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4442045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deawrites/pseuds/deawrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Winchester sits, drinks and thinks about his lost wife.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mary

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to see something from John's perspective and this is what resulted. (edited and re-posted 8/30/16)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Any comments, suggestions, criticisms, praise and requests are encouraged.

_Mary_.

 

She was all he ever wanted, and the one thing he could never have again.  He could still remember the scent of her favorite perfume, even if he had never bothered to remember it's name. The way it mixed with her own chemistry was like a soft whisper over his skin, yet scenting the fragrance directly from the bottle it smelled nothing like her.  He could still remember the phantom sensations of her golden hair running through his fingers; he could still picture her smile within his mind's eye. He loved her melodious laugh, her jester's winks, and how mischievous she could be when she was playful.

 

He had been proud when she had told him she was pregnant; both times; yet he would never admit aloud that he wished they had remained childless. John didn't have a clue how to be a father. His own had disappeared when John was very young, and he had retained little of Henry Winchester’s character within his memories. Mary however was lively, encouraged laughter, excited conversations and tickle fights. As much as John wanted to sequester her charms all to himself, Mary wished to spread her love to children of their own.

 

Dean was the first. He had his mother's laugh and goofy, playful ways. His eyes lit up like hers, crinkling at the outer corners when he smiled. He was beautiful like her too, nurturing and self-sacrificing to a fault, but in all else he had schooled himself to be like John.  There had been a time when John felt in competition with his son for his wife's attention, but he managed to push his jealousy back and hide it from his wife. Mary adored Dean, and while intellectually John understood Mary would always place the children before his needs, he could not do the same in return. For him Mary always came first and the boys a distant second.

 

He never communicated this to her, but sensed that in her way she felt it. Sam's birth was a tipping point, and Mary began picking at him to bond with the baby. John was reluctant to hold Sam, let alone feed nor change him. He had done the occasional feeding or diaper duty with Dean, but primarily had left those basic tasks to Mary. With Sam, John preferred to remain at the peripheral, which wasn't difficult to do as Dean was downright obsessed with his new baby brother.

 

The kid buzzed around Sam's crib, carrier, or his mother's arms with all the unbridled excitement that Mary showed at having a new baby to care for. He constantly chatted at Sam, touched him, stroked him, and begged Mary to let him hold the baby, or help to care for him. He wanted to know everything about Sam; what made him cry? What made him stop? Did he recognize his family yet by their faces and voices? How did he like to be played with? What was his favorite color? When would he be old enough to sleep in Dean's room with him, instead of the nursery that was so far away down the hall? On and on with the questions that John never had answers for. The children; in most ways; were Mary's responsibility. He sometimes took Dean for a ride in the car with him on an errand or two around town, or to the park to play with the other kids, but Dean was always anxious to get home to his mother and Sammy.

 

Sam... Now he was a creature of his mother and Dean both; and the only thing he had of John was his temper and stubborn streak. Those he had in spades, putting even John's to shame. He didn't have Mary's beauty, but he had her sharp mind. He didn't have her laughter but he could brood in the dark just like she could. Throw silence like a weapon, or the reverse and castigate him unrelentingly when Sam disagreed. That kid was trouble, and John couldn't understand how Dean could so unflinchingly love him.  The only time Dean ever dug his heals in and said word one of descent to John, it was because of Sam.  Sam was the bone of contention that no matter how hard he tried, John could not remove from Dean's grasp. Dean wasn't strong willed like his mother, yet if the topic came down to Sam's wellbeing, then Dean would fight tooth and nail until John surrendered.

 

Sam did have Mary's iron will, and John detested railing against it. Fighting with his sons made him lose memories of their mother by degrees’. Little nuances were beginning to fade, and it was due to his boy's inability; Sam's in particular; to do what the fuck he was told, when he was ordered too, without argument. The only reason John Winchester clung to his mortal coil was vengeance for his precious Mary. She deserved to be avenged, and if her son's or husband perished in the process, then so be it. Winchester's always went down swinging.

 

John closed his eyes and exhaled softly. He could feel the tumbler of bourbon in his left hand, his wedding ring clinked against the glass.  John had given Dean, Mary's wedding ring for his ninth birthday, prying the promise from the boy that he would never cry over his mother's death again. John had been sick of Dean's unsuccessfully hidden tears.  Threatening to smack him across the face and yelling at him to toughen up hadn't worked, so desperate for silence one night, John gave him the ring. He had been wearing it on a chord around his throat; which Dean did as well; until he grew enough to wear it on his right hand.

 

 _Mary_.

 

John ached for her; longed to feel her comforting hands through his hair, her gentle kisses upon his brow, and be held in her tender arms. She could consume him with her grace; her scent; her very will and he would exist happily forever like that.  Yet for now all he had was the hunt, vengeance, and two sons he never really wanted; and was only in contact with because he owed that to Mary. She adored them, and all he could grant her was the promise to keep them alive. Whatever he felt for the two boys it wasn't love, but it was the closest version of the emotion that John Winchester could give them now. In the beginning he had loved them; and that had been enough.

 

John raised the tumbler to his lips and took a sip from it, the sounds of the dive bar muted as his senses. _Mary_. _Mary_ \- fuck how he missed her. He wasn't a whole person without her, but rather a husk of a man. Everything that was once good about him had faded over time, along with his subtle memories of her essence.  Thankfully, Sam never asked him to describe her character to him, perhaps he had asked Dean those questions, or maybe Sam hadn't cared; because he had never known a mother figure let alone his own mother. Sam was the lucky one in John's book; he suffered the least and John suffered the most, but John would never trade places with him even if he could.

 

Sam didn't know Mary, and Mary was an angel. She was what was good and right about the world, and that was something Sam could never be. There was something dark and distorted in Sam though; John wondered what Mary would have said about it as Sam grew; something wasn't right about him, and there was no denying that. Even if Dean turned a blind eye to the facts Mary- Mary was too smart live in ignorance, even if it was her precious baby boy that raised the question.

 

So John drank, hunted, and sought out the demon that killed the best part of John. _Mary_ : she was everything and John Winchester was nothing without her.


End file.
